Requiem
by DancerInTheDark101
Summary: "I used to be Hal Mason – sixteen-year-old high school jock. Now I am Hal Mason – sixteen-year-old soldier and fighter for the Second Massachusetts… And I'm okay with that." A look into Hal's journey from school kid to soldier.


This is a version of how I think Hal's first mission could go. Does not fit in the storyline in Sands Through the Hourglass. There is a little bit of swearing. Thanks for all the awesome reviews for my other fics. I really love hearing from you all :)

Also, I have recently finished my very first fan vid! (for Falling Skies). I've uploaded it to YouTube – I'd love it if you would check it out and tell me what you thought. My user name is the same as fanfic, so just search for that – or the name of the vid is _Falling Skies – Dance With the Devil_.

Thanks! Enjoy.

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**REQUIEM**

_**DancerInTheDark101**_

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"_I used to be Hal Mason – sixteen-year-old high school jock. Now I am Hal Mason – sixteen-year-old soldier and fighter for the Second Massachusetts… And I'm okay with that." A look into Hal's journey from school kid to soldier._

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-FALLING SKIES-

I just lay there and started shaking, the adrenaline racing through my system as I finally comprehended what had just happened.

It was my first mission as a fighter with the Second Mass, only having asked to join the ranks a few weeks before, after my Mom was killed and my younger brother vanished. My dad was somewhere else in the building, searching for the supplies we so desperately needed.

It was supposed to be a routine mission. Scout the area for food and supplies, grab what we could and head back to base camp. But I was slowly learning that nothing ever went to plan when it came to these kinds of things.

"Shit! Hal!" a voice came from somewhere. I knew I should know the voice, but I was too busy trying not to completely freak out. "Oh god… Hal? Fuck, are you alright? Hal? Answer me!"

"Get it off me!" I screamed, panic starting to set in. I closed my eyes as someone tried to lift the heavy thing off me. The next thing I remember was the feeling of weightlessness as the Skitter was lifted off my upper body and pushed to the side, hitting the ground with a thud.

"Oh my god, Hal!" Another voice yelled. It was my dad.

I vomited. It wasn't pretty and it wasn't nice. I heaved and gasped as the burn of partially digested food made its way back up my throat. A hand landed on my shoulder gently, rubbing soothing circles on my back and neck as I bent double.

"Oh god…" I moaned once I was able to speak. I spat out some disgusting crap in my mouth and stood on shaky legs, purposefully avoiding the scene in front of me. I didn't need to see it again to know that it would forever be burned in my mind.

The Skitter had come out of nowhere. I'd been standing beside Hal when it had leapt, its six legs flailing everywhere as it launched itself at me. I hadn't noticed until the very last minute and by then it was too late. I went down, firing the gun strapped over my shoulder. The Skitter jerked as the bullets penetrated its thick skin. I had a single moment of elation before it turned to horror as the Skitter started to fall on top of me.

I was shaking as I sat there, desperately trying to avoid the dead Skitter in the room. I stared at my hands instead, weirdly fascinated by the sheer amount of black blood staining them. They were shaking too; wouldn't stay still for even a second.

"Hal? You're not hurt are you?"

I shook my head slowly. "I… I'm okay…" I blinked as I heard my voice. It was quiet and shaky. I sounded like I was five again. What the hell was wrong with me?

"It's okay, son. You're okay…" It was dad. A pair of arms wrapped around me as I sat there, trying to fight away the tears that had suddenly and horrifyingly appeared.

I had been so scared. I thought I was ready to be a fighter… but I think I was wrong. I couldn't do this. I was a jock – a school kid. I wasn't a soldier who carried around a weapon that could kill. I was supposed to be in school, learning pointless things and making out with girls behind the bleachers.

The tears fell harder and faster as I gripped my dad's shirt. He still had his arms around me and was whispering into my ear. I was too wound up to notice anything he was saying. The gun was still strapped to me, the heavy weapon resting against my chest. I pushed myself away from my dad and ripped the strap over my head, heaving the weapon far away.

I didn't want to have anything to do with this war anymore. I just wanted to go back to being a school kid. I wanted my mom alive and my younger brother back. This was never supposed to happen. I was sixteen years old and living a fucking sci-fi movie…

"Shhh…" my dad murmured, wrapping me in his arms again. "That's it. Let it out. It's okay. We're here for you. _I'm_ here for you."

_-falling skies-_

I don't know how long it took for the tears to stop. It could have been minutes, or it could have been hours. I still don't know. I don't even really remember how we got back to camp. It's all just one big blur.

Even now, months later, I still struggle with that initial feeling of helplessness and despair. I still get bouts of doubt, but they're slowly fading with time – with experience.

Since that day I've had many encounters with the Skitters. Each one has been easier than the last. I never thought I could get used to this life, but I find myself growing accustomed to the life of a soldier – a sixteen-year-old soldier.

I feel ashamed of my breakdown sometimes. I used to be able to justify it a little because of my age, but now there's an even younger fighter than myself. His name is Jimmy and I think he's around the same age as Ben, my younger brother.

_-falling skies-_

I got Ben back today. My little brother was still alive. He hadn't been seen for almost six months, then one day while scouting I'd seen him with a group of harnessed kids. It had taken at least a few days, but we had him back.

Dad had come to me afterwards and asked how I was, knowing that the situation had struck a nerve. It had. As soon as I'd gone into that room and the Skitter had lain down virtually on top of all of us, it had made those memories of my first mission come racing back with vengeance.

I'd had to fight back the rising panic and some things are still a little hazy from the fight I had with the Skitter, but the main thing is I got my brother back.

Wiping the blood from around the spikes piercing through his skin, it's now that I realise just why I had to be a fighter. As much as it initially terrified me, I now know why. I've come to terms with the fact that I'll never be the same sixteen-year-old kid who played lacrosse again. I'm a fighter now – a soldier who fights to protect those who I love and now that my family is back together again, I will work as hard as a possibly can to keep it that way.

There will always be that fear; the fear of the Skitters, of the aliens that invaded our once-peaceful world.

I used to be Hal Mason – sixteen-year-old high school jock.

Now I am Hal Mason – sixteen-year-old soldier and fighter for the Second Massachusetts.

And I'm okay with that.

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So what did you think? I hope I made it realistic enough… and that Hal was in character. I always get a little nervous posting stuff about Hal, as I don't think I have his character down-pact yet.

For those waiting on Matt's instalment of the Absence Trilogy – I've hit a little snag, but it shouldn't be too much longer now.

Thanks for reading.


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